Sing like no one is listening...

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[wexler]

Law and Order: SVU - 24.22 “All Pain Is One Malady”

[songbirdstrivestothrive]

Of Tethers And Time: Absence (Ch 3)

A/N: As always, Elliot to Liv is bold italics, and Liv to Elliot is plain italics. The last section is Elliot POV.

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Wednesday Night, 10pm… 

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You can’t just talk to me in the middle of the day like that. I was in a meeting with McGrath.

But I had a question.

She rolls her eyes, bites the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing, like he can see her.

We have to have some rules. Clearly.

I don’t like rules.

I’m well aware.

Olivia adjusts her comforter, folding it down a few more inches; if someone had told her a week ago that she’d be having a conversation across her mating bond—

I can tell you’re not actually mad, you know. I feel it. 

You feel what?

You. You feel all…warm and happy. Sleepy, I think. Not mad.

You feel like a pain in my ass.

She’s grinning now, in spite of herself; it’s mutual, that warmth flowing both ways down the bond, lulling and soothing. He’s been away for five days—not that she’s counting—and it’s been…interesting. The bond has been taut off and on; sometimes she’s pulling and sometimes he is, most often it’s him. A quick, soothing reminder, a tug or two, is usually enough to relax it, but it’s still happening. She can’t tell if she’s getting used to it, or if he’s learning to control it better, but it’s not as distracting. It does feel urgent; she’s still not quite ready to admit to herself that she misses him, needs him, but that’s what this is.

She misses him. They’ve barely seen each other with any kind of regularity in the past two years, but five days apart and she misses him. She misses her mate; it’s primal, the way she wants him near her. Combined with the fact that he’s on a job, that he might be providing backup in the field at any given moment, and it’s enough to tilt her axis a little, the worry of it all.

It still doesn’t feel real; even when his deep, warm voice is echoing down the bond and into her ears, it doesn’t feel real. It doesn’t feel real that she has somebody, that the universe picked someone for her, and it feels even less real that it’s Elliot. It doesn’t feel like they should’ve settled into this so easily, that they’ve just accepted this twist of fate. But, over the course of processing it, she’s realized it doesn’t feel strange because…they’ve been here before. Twelve years ago, they’d nearly been in this place; they’d been able to finish each other’s sentences, and spend fourteen hour days together. They’d been so in sync, known every detail, big and small; but they’d never taken that last step. She’d trusted him with her life, still trusts him with it, but there were parts of her that were always off limits; the part of her that craved physical contact, and comfort, the part of her that wanted that from him. There’d always been a part of her that wanted that with him, and couldn’t have it—intimacy.

That’s what they’re developing now, intimacy; whispers and murmurs and contact.   

They have permission, now, and it’s like they’ve been waiting for it, poised to jump at the first nudge.

You didn’t answer my question .

Because I didn’t understand it. What do you mean, what should you call me?

Exactly what it sounds like. What should I call you now?

Olivia? Liv? 

Feel like I should get to call you something else. A new nickname.

Like what?

Darlin’?

Seriously?

Livvie?

Absolutely not.

Puddin’?

She laughs out loud, slapping a hand over her mouth to muffle the sound.

Are you trying to ask me how I feel about pet names?

He doesn’t answer for a moment, but she feels him there, thinking.

They might slip out. I kinda…I like doing that. With my…person.

He’s testing, being careful with her, afraid to do anything that might make her reconsider—anything that might make her run from this.

Your person, huh?

My people. All of you.

A part of him is still standing in her kitchen, listening to her whisper that she still isn’t ready for him, for them; she’d seen it all over his face that night, the sinking feeling that he’d pushed her too far and ruined them, forever. Maybe, she realizes, that’s why the universe had finally chosen to intervene.

Alright, well, if something slips out, and I don’t like it, I’ll let you know. Otherwise...feel free.

The way she feels his smile, takes her breath away; like a warm breeze on a perfect summer day.

Okay. 

He’s quiet for a little while after that, and she gets up to wash her face, to dab on moisturizer and serum. Just as she’s climbing back into bed with a glass of water, he speaks again.

This is nice. Just talking. I missed it.

She smiles a little, settling.

Yeah. Me too.

Ask me something.

Like what?

I dunno. Something you wanna know. Something you wouldn’t have asked me before last week.

She swallows, thinking; never, in all the time they’ve known each other, has she been free to ask him whatever she wants. They’d been open with each other in some ways, but completely closed off in others. There are things she wants to know, things she's wondered, laying in bed in the dark, when she'd been at her softest and most vulnerable, mind wandering into places it really shouldn't have. But now, they're entwined as closely as two people can be; he's literally in her head, and one day, he'll probably be laying here beside her, in her bed, and nothing is off limits anymore.

Do you…do you like to kiss?

Oh .

Her face heats, and she backtracks.

Sorry. I didn’t mean to—we don’t have to talk about that—

—no I just, that isn’t what I expected you to ask. 

He tugs gently on the bond, which she realizes has become their way of reassuring each other—that they’re there, or that what they’ve said isn’t offensive—this time, it feels like the equivalent of a shoulder squeeze, warm and close.

Doesn’t everybody?

Not really. Some men I’ve dated didn’t. Or didn’t want to unless it was, y’know, going somewhere.

Huh. What kinda kiss are we talking about here?

She squeezes her eyes closed for a second, forcing herself to be vulnerable, to swallow against the nerves in her belly.

Any kind.

Yeah. I like to kiss. Doesn’t have to lead to anything. I mean…I’m gonna wanna kiss you good morning. Kiss goodbye. Make out when the movie’s boring. Whenever. I like doing that, being close. Is that okay?

She can’t even begin to wrap her brain around the actual kissing of it all, because the way he phrases it, like he has plans, makes her heart skip. She takes a deep breath and feels for that bond, lets herself trust it. He has plans because they’re going to do this, and it’s going to be…solid, and safe. It’s going to be what it was always meant to.

Yeah, it’s okay. I—I like that, too.

Now you have to let me ask you something.

She holds her breath.

Okay.

Relax. I’m just an old Catholic white guy. I can feel you being nervous.

She laughs a little.

I’m not nervous. This is just—this is new for us.

I know. And you are nervous, but, that’s okay.

Are you gonna ask me a question, or psychoanalyze me all night, Stabler?

I’m getting there. Tell me…something that you like. Not during, y’know, that’s—we’ll—never mind. Just, not that. Something else that you like. When you’re in a relationship.

Now it’s her turn to wrap her mind around the bond and soothe, smiling at the way he stumbles through his question even though he’s been the cool and confident one.

Just, generally having someone there I gues—

—no, no c’mon. Something specific. You asked me about kissing. 

You said something outside of that.

Still in that realm. Something I’d never know about you, unless we—

He pauses, and she can feel him struggling to express himself, feeling that little bit of frustration pull against the bond.

I just wanna know you, Olivia. 

Her chest aches at that; it’s all he’d wanted their entire partnership, and since he’s been back. He’s so used to not asking, they both are, that now they struggle with it, the vulnerability of it. But sometimes when they're together she can see it in his eyes, the way he looks almost earnest, hanging on her words like he’s trying to drink them in.  

She takes a breath.

Okay. Umm. I like it when—god, this is going to sound stupid.

Whatever it is, it’s not.

I like my back rubbed while I’m falling asleep. Which is silly. Not every night. But just, sometimes. If I can’t sleep, or I had a shitty day.

There’s a pause, and then a kind of cozy warmth that makes her shiver.

Liv, that isn’t silly at all.

It floods in then, the want that makes her restless and short of breath, and the bond goes taut between them, like he's reaching, reaching, reaching...

Hey. Right here.

I know. S'just...need to be touching you. This is torture.

I know. This weekend, right?

Yeah. I made it clear it’s non-negotiable. This is—I gotta…

He pulls, and it really does knock the breath out of her; it flares, hot and fast, for a few seconds. She gets a little dizzy with it, and she slides a hand up to cover her breast, rubbing to soothe the ache that's settled there.

I’ll be on the last flight Friday night.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thursday Morning, 10am…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“—anyway, I can’t get a fried egg because Phoebe’s got me on this stupid new eating plan, and I gotta get these egg white cupcake things, from Starbucks, and you know I hate goin’ in there—Liv? Earth to Benson.”

Olivia startles, refocusing on her sergeant—her friend—and takes a sip of her iced coffee. “Sorry, Fin. Phoebe has you on a diet?”

Fin stares at her for a few seconds, analyzing, and she shifts under his watchful expression; she’s distracted, she’s been distracted for nearly a week, and it was only a matter of time before he noticed.

She could tell him, but she hasn’t had that discussion with Elliot yet, the are-we-talking-about-this discussion, so she tips her head in faux curiosity, pretending she wasn’t just staring off into space for the past few minutes.

“Somethin’s going on with you,” he says knowingly, peering at her over his sunglasses, “You don’t have to tell me, but—“

“It’s Elliot,” she blurts out, closing her eyes for a second.

And suddenly she's just going to tell him, because it's bursting out of her, and it's so much that she needs to talk about it. 

Fin’s face changes, going serious. “What’d he do now?”

His reaction doesn’t surprise her; Fin’s always been protective of her, but in the wake of Elliot leaving, their relationship had blossomed into a fierce friendship she’d never expected.

“Nothing,” she says quickly, swallowing hard, “Nothing. He—listen, if I tell you something, it’s in confidence, right?”

Fin shrugs, leaning back in his chair. “Obviously.”

Before she can change her mind, she barrels forward. “We just found out that we—we’re mates.”

His jaw drops in shock, and he stares for a second, then two; then, slowly, his face splits into a grin, and he starts to laugh.

And laugh.

“It’s not funny,” she breathes, eyes widening.

Fin nods, still laughing. “Oh, it’s hilarious.”

He whips off his sunglasses, and presses the side of his hand into his eyes, shoulders shaking with laughter; after a moment, she can’t help but chuckle along, because from the outside, it probably does seem ridiculous.

It is ridiculous.

She’s still giggling as she tells him. “We also have a telepathic bond.”

“What?!” he crows, planting both feet on the ground, leaning forward, “No shit.”

“No,” she laughs, shaking her head, “Swear on my badge.”

“You two,” he starts, gesturing with his palm down, “Have been so goddamn twisted, for so long—we should’ve all guessed it. You need to call Cragen right now. Today.”

“Fin, we haven’t told anybody. We found out last week.”

“No wonder you’ve been a space cadet,” he teases, flipping his sunglasses back on after wiping his eyes one final time, “I needed a good laugh, thanks for that.”

She rolls her eyes, and their laughter trails off into companionable silence; she can feel him staring at her, deciding what to say next.

“So…”

Olivia sighs, nodding slowly. “Yeah.”

“That’s…pretty heavy,” he muses, in that calm, measured way he has, “You, and him, and the partners thing, and the multiple decades thing.”

“Yep,” she agrees, sipping her coffee.

“How’re you handling it?”

He’s serious now, genuine, and he’s probably the one person she trusts enough, aside from Elliot, to process this out loud with.

“It’s…a lot,” she admits, dipping her finger into the puddle of condensation her coffee’s made on the table, “But, at the same time, it’s a relief. Because all those years, everything we felt…it was real, y’know?”

Fin hums in understanding, giving her the space to keeping talking, if she wants to.

“We’re just taking it one step at a time. He had a job lined up, so, he’s back and forth between here and Pennsylvania all summer. Then, I guess, when he settles back in—“

She breaks off to groan a little, rubbing her face.

“—I guess we’re gonna, date each other? I don’t even know, it’s very overwhelming.”

Finn is quiet for a few seconds, and then—

“Y’all are so annoying. Still.”

Her lips part in amusement. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Date each other?” he enunciates, leaning forward as he imitates her, “Liv, everybody knows how this ends except for the two of you. Just do it. Move in together. Get married. Whatever you’re gonna do, just do it. We’re not getting any younger.”

“I don’t think it’s that easy,” she sighs, shaking her head.

Fin raises his eyebrows. “Then make it that easy.”

Silence stretches for a few seconds, and then her phone rings: another case.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Friday Morning, 3am…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Elliot wakes up to thick, black smoke clouding his vision.

Fire.

He’s on fire.

The whole room is on fire, and he’s burning; it’s scorching his skin, making him sweat through the bedding. He’s suffocating as all the air is sucked from the room, and he gasps, pulling at the blankets; maybe the blankets are on fire, something’s on fire because he can’t fucking see, it’s all black, endless black swirling smoke.

And then he shoots up in bed, panting.

Blinking wildly, he looks around; ugly hotel carpet, blinking alarm clock, dusty curtains.

No fire.

Nothing’s on fire, except him.

He shoves the damp bedding away; he’s only wearing boxer briefs but they’re soaked, his chest is clammy, his hands are clammy, there’s sweat beading his forehead, and what the actual fuck is going on—

A wave of pure, raw panic slams into him, and his heart is racing, pounding out of his chest.

A panic attack.

It’s a panic attack.

He tries to breathe, gives his head a shake to clear it—but, it’s different. Something’s different, something’s wrong.

All at once, he knows; he realizes he’s not panicking, she’s panicking.

Another wave of it hits him, so powerful it takes his air away and he has to take big, gulping breaths, bracing himself on the bed.

Olivia’s panicking, he can feel it now, the way it’s blowing down the bond like a hurricane. She’s panicking in the middle of the night, and the thought makes him roil with nausea, because she could be on a case, and something could be very, very wrong—

Liv. Liv, talk to me. Olivia?

He waits, but her reply doesn’t come; the panic does though, relentless in the way it slams into him, chasing him around the room as he gets up and starts to pace. He almost starts to panic too, the first hints of hyperventilation creeping in, as he rubs his forehead, restless, asking for her over and over; and then he realizes he might be able to push back, that he should try to help her calm down.

Crossing back over to the bed, he forces himself to sit down, focusing through deep breaths; he’s never tried to send a feeling before, not like this, not pushing up against something so strong on her end. It’s still hitting him in big waves, nearly making him gag, but he closes his eyes and takes a few mental steps onto that bridge, wrapping his hands, his arms around their connection. Then, he brings up every calm thought and memory he can, letting the images, and sounds, and smells fill him up, spinning them into his own cyclone; babies sleeping on his chest, middle of the night stakeouts with her beside him, sunrises in Italy, and long evening runs through Central Park. Slowly, inch by inch, he’s able to push the panic away; he’s not getting through to her, he doesn’t think, but he’s pushed it far enough away from himself that he’s able to think more clearly.

A nightmare.

It dawns on him all at once, the time of night, and the chaotic swirl of it. Olivia doesn’t panic on the job, not like this; she’s having a nightmare. His relief is palpable, and it floods the bond without much effort, pushing and pushing at the awful mess until his path is nearly clear.

Wake her. All he can think then, is that he has to wake her, because she’s panicking, and hurting, and the thought of it makes him insane. He snatches his phone off the nightstand and starts to call her, over and over when she doesn’t answer; it’s making him feel sick, knowing this is something that happens to her, that’s she’s going to wake up gasping and afraid.

He’s never tried to yell down the bond before, but he tries to push his voice higher, louder.

Liv. C’mon, Liv.

It’s not working, he’s not yelling, and she’s still sending him rush after rush of pain and fear; she’s not answering her phone, caught in the throes of whatever this is, and if it doesn’t stop soon he thinks he might actually vomit, or do something crazy like get in his car and start driving back to the city.

Screw the flight he’s supposed to board in seventeen hours, he needs to get to her now.

Squeezing his eyes closed, he rages, lets it pour out of him.

OLIVIA. LIV.

It works.

When it stops, it’s a candle being snuffed out; everything stills, and fades away in wisps, curling slowly. He realizes he’s panting, shaky hands braced against his knees, and his body is buzzing with the remnants of her dream, of whatever’s been tormenting her for the past ten minutes. Then, it’s cold, and that devastates him, because he knows that chilly breeze is her loneliness; she’s awake now, trying to catch her breath, and she’s alone in the dark. He cradles the bond and pulls with a gentle, steady pressure, trying to comfort her in the only way he can.

Liv, I’m awake. I’m here.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Thank you for reading!

[songbirdstrivestothrive]

Son: II

A/N: **Posting the full chapter here because ff.net is glitching a little this morning and I’m not sure what you’re seeing as an end user.** This series could have literally been one chapter but I just get too excited and can’t wait to share with you guys LOL. Here is The Morning After. A little more romance and a lot less crying.

Olivia wakes up cold the next morning, and when she rolls over she quickly figures out why. She blinks in the semi-darkness, looking around for a clock, but before she can get up the low rumble of his voice comes from outside the bedroom door. He re-appears a moment later, in his boxers, pressing the end call button on his cell phone.

“Oh…did I wake you? I’m sorry,” he breathes, doing a double take when he sees that she’s awake.

She shakes her head, watching him cross the room. “No, I just—I woke up because I was cold.”

His eyes warm and he sets the phone aside, climbing back into bed. He rolls onto his side and holds his arm up while she cuddles into his chest, tucking the blankets around her body.

“Better?” he murmurs, pressing his lips against her forehead.

She hums, tucking herself into his chest even more, pressing her nose against his neck.

“Geez, your nose iscold,” he chuckles, tightening his arms around her.

“Who was on the phone?” she asks softly, curiosity getting the better of her.

He yawns, nuzzling his lips into her hair. “Morning briefing. I want to take some time up here, but, I told them I still want to be briefed every day.”

“That’s good,” she yawns, catching it from him, “You should do what makes you comfortable.”

They’re quiet for a few minutes, and his warm palm rubs slowly up and down her back.

“When did you steal my clothes?”

She smiles against his collarbone; she’s stolen a long-sleeved thermal shirt from his Camp David closet. “After you fell asleep. I was too cold without a shirt.”

“We’ll get some of your things up here today,” he says, and then adds quickly, “If you’re staying. I—I know this wasn’t exactly planned—“

“I’m staying,” she whispers, reassuring him.

After another minute, he takes a breath like he wants to say something, and then stops. She lifts her face from his neck and moves up to share his pillow, meeting his eyes as her hand comes up to cup his cheek.

“Don’t you dare be sorry,” she warns softly, reading the apology written all over his face.

“Liv, I’m sorry—“

“You don’t need to apologize to me.”

“Like hell I don’t,” he breathes, eyes widening, “You had to drop everything—“

“I didn’t have to do anything. I’m here because I wantto be here with you—no, look at me—“

He’s looking down, and she waits for him to look at her again.

“—I love you,” she says softly, stroking his cheekbone with her thumb, “And I know I don’t say that enough, but…I love you. Do you believe that?”

Fitz swallows thickly, and then nods, still holding her gaze.

“Then pleasebelieve me when I tell you there is nowhere else I’d rather be,” she murmurs.

He still looks apologetic, glancing down between them. “I shouldn’t have let myself lose control like that. With you.”

“Fitz, there is no should or shouldn’t. You can cope however you need to cope.”

“Did I hurt you?” he murmurs, brows furrowed, cradling her cheek like she’s made of glass.

“Baby, no, of course not,” she breathes, reaching up to smooth his hair.

Before she can say anything else, he cups her between her thighs, gently rubbing the heel of his hand over her pubic bone. She hisses a little before she can stop herself, because she issore and tender, more than she’d realized.

“Fuck,” he whispers, pressing his forehead against her neck, “I’m sorry, Livvie, I didn’t—“

“—stop. Look at me.”

Again, she waits for him to lift his gaze back up to hers, and she cradles his face between both hands, looking at him with gentle, serious eyes.

“It’s okay,” she says firmly, making sure he hearsher, “You didn’t hurt me. I’m a little sore, now, but last night…you didn’t hurt me. Okay? It’s okay.”

He stares into her eyes from a moment, still not looking like he fully believes her. But eventually he seems to let himself off the hook a little, and he exhales, nodding.

“Okay.”

When he kisses her this morning he’s soft, and tender. He presses his lips against hers with deliberate, focused pressure, and she can feel the ‘I love you’ that he isn’t saying. She sighs and threads her fingers into his hair, angling her body for more contact until he finally crawls on top of her. He fits himself between her thighs and settles with gentle pressure, hovering over her supported by his forearms.

She’s not shy about the fact that she wants him, sighing into each kiss, trailing her palms up and down his bare back. But she can feel the hesitation in his body and she lets their kisses slow down, until he stops altogether and leans his forehead against hers.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to,” she murmurs, cradling his face, “I just…missyou.”

“No, I do,” he sighs, brows furrowed, “But I—after last night…I couldn’t, and then—I don’t want you to feel like—“

Like I’m using you.

Liv instantly hears what he isn’t saying and presses her finger to his lips, making him look at her. “—I don’t feel that way. I could neverfeel that way. I just want to live this day with you, whatever that means. One hour at a time, if that’s what you need. What do you need?”

He starts to let himself sink into her, slowly dropping all of his pretenses, really letting her in.

“I need to not—I need to live in this bed with you for a little while—“ he murmurs, closing his eyes, “I don’t want to face what’s out there yet, I need—I need a break, I need a minute—“

“—then we stay here,” she soothes, rhythmically rubbing the pads of her fingers through the perfectly groomed hair at the base of his neck, “We’re going at your pace. We’ll stay here and sleep. Or not sleep. I’m with you.”

Fitz kisses her forehead, sweet and soft, then her cheek, and finally her mouth. When he pauses to rest his nose beside hers, he makes her favorite sound, and her hips shift unconsciously. It’s barely audible, so quiet that she can only catch it when the air is still and silent. It’s not a sigh, or a moan, or a hum; it’s the softest exhale from somewhere deep in his throat, like the afterthought of a growl. It’s the sound he makes when he’s thinking about being inside of her, and it always meltsher.  

“You want me,” she whispers, touching his top lip with the tip of her tongue.

He hums, leaning to the side to firmly trail one of his hands over her body. “I do. I always do.”

She arches into his hand, breath catching when he cups her breast, lightly tracing her nipple through her shirt. “I haven’t made love to you in two months and twelve days, and I would very much like to bring that back to zero.”

“Do you always keep track?” he asks, with the slightest hint of a smile.

“Like you don’t?”

She teases him carefully, taking his cue to lighten things up a little.

He nips her bottom lip, and then wets it with a stroke of his tongue. “It’s actually been two months fifteendays, not twelve.”

Liv groans playfully, wrapping her legs around his hips. “Good lordthat’s a long time when you say it out loud.”

He nuzzles into her neck with a soft chuckle, dragging his lips back and forth before he sucks a torturously slow line of kisses to her shoulder. Her whole body breaks out into goosebumps and Fitz hums, tugging on the neck of her shirt, trying to get to her collarbone.

“Here,” she murmurs, wiggling around to pull the shirt over her head.

His skin is warm when they come together and she sighs happily, threading her fingers into his hair. He noses at her chin until she tips it up, grinning while he sucks kisses down her throat. She takes a deep breath and closes her eyes, content to let him map her body with his mouth, still surprised that he knowswhere to linger. She’s breathless faster than she can keep up with the assault of lips, tongue, and teeth, writhing slowly in his arms.

After a few minutes, he’s between her thighs, cursing and rubbing the tip of his nose against the damp fabric of her panties. He snaps the band with his teeth, teasing her while he works his fingers underneath the fabric and pulls it off. He sits up to look at her, and she moans softly when he delicately rubs open lips against the inside of her knee. She’d neverknown she could enjoy someone kissing her thighs so much, until him. Her memories from their first time are still in focus, and she vividly remembers reaching up to ground herself with pillows when he’d started to suck those warm, open-mouthed kisses against her soft, tender skin.

The apocalypse could be in full swing outside, and she knows he would stilllick her out like they have all the time in world. He delightsin teasing her, in turning her on, in making her ache and swell for him. After he’s languidly kissed up and down her thighs, breathing over her core to make her whimper and sigh, he settles down onto his stomach and loops his arms underneath her legs.

She can’t help but moan and flex her hips impatiently.

“Baby.”

Fitz reaches for her hands, bringing her down into the moment with him before he starts to make love to her with his mouth. He lovesto love on her this way, and it’s part of what makes it so good. She can’t breathethis morning while he pulls and sucks on her clit, relentlessly coaxing her closer and closer to the edge. He moves with her while she writhes and pushes against him, sighing and growling in between breaths, listening to her stuttered inhales and whimpers.

She puts her hands in his hair when he makes her come, scratching over his scalp while the waves carry her away for a minute. When she comes back into herself he’s kissing her pubic bone, gently pressing warm kisses across it in one direction, and then the other.

He’s kissing it better, she realizes, and the thought makes her smile while she catches her breath.

“Come up here,” she breathes, reaching for him.

He doesn’t comply immediately, kissing across one more time, but then he crawls up into her arms.

“So beautiful,” he rasps, kissing her languidly, “You’re sogorgeous.”

She hums and sucks on his bottom lip, pressing her tongue into his mouth. “Oh…I can’t—make love to me. Want you.”

They work his boxers off together, and he sinks into her after a few strokes of her hand, pressing close and groaning into her mouth.

“Hello, Mr. President,” she sighs softly against his mouth, when the full thickness and hardness of his cock fills her.

He lets out a relieved sound that’s half chuckle, half groan.

“…so good…you feel so good…Livvie…”

Feeling him everywhereis the most exquisite pleasure; he’s full and warm inside of her, solid on top of her. She wraps her body around him and holds him, cradling his jaw while they breathe and kiss.

“Don’t move yet,” she whispers, squeezing her thighs around his hips, “Just kiss me. Just be here.”

He needs to bury himself in her, and she knows it. He needs to feel surrounded, and safe, and cradled, and he would neveruse those words or ask her for it; but she knows he needs to lose himself in her.

“…kiss me…”

“…Liv…”

“…shhh, kiss me…”

He’s taking long breaths in between words and kisses, trying notto let his body take over.

“…ungh…Liv, can’t—“

“…shhh…”

“…are you—“

“…kiss me…”

She kisses him deeply, slipping her tongue into his mouth, scratching her nails over his ass.

“…ungh…”

“—do I feel good, baby?”

His next groan is deep and guttural, the kind of sound he makes when he’s not thinking.

“…yeah…fuck…”

“…kiss me…can you feel how wet you’re making me?”

“…fuck…”

She can almost feel his brain shut off as she talks to him, as his body starts to completely take over. His hips rock involuntarily, and his instinctual need to move inside of her starts to drive his movements. Slowly, his upper body relaxes until his face is tucked into her neck, and she wraps her arms around to hold him.

“…feels so good,” she whimpers, panting against his temple.

Finally, he doesn’t answer her.

He’s moaning and grunting freely against her skin, fucking into her with deep, rhythmic thrusts. His hands are planted underneath her, gripping the sheets, and his entire torso is pressed against her. She keeps her moans and sighs pressed right into his ear, reassuring him that he feels incredible, that he doesn’t need to do anything other than what he’s doing.

It’s hard to get him to do this sometimes, because he’s sosweet, soattentive, soaware of her pleasure; but when he lets go and just fucksher, and she knows he’s absolutely gone…it’s one of her favorite things. Sometimes, she needs it, and even though he would never admit it, sometimes heneeds it.

She can tell he’s getting close after a little while.

His rhythm changes to something more desperate, and his groans lengthen.

“…m’gonna…fuck…”

Instead of talking him through it she holds him tighter, still meeting his thrusts, and turns to close her teeth around his earlobe. He cries out, hips jerking, and she feels everything get warmer and wetter as he comes inside of her. She whimpers and moans, raking her fingers back and forth through his hair when he grinds against her oversensitive clit.  

“…baby…”

He comes hard, and loudly, growling and letting his hips jerk.

“…didn’t feel you…”

He’s barely caught his breath before he’s talking to her, trying to put his focus back on her.

“…I’m fine, baby…ooh…”

“…Livvie…”

“…you feel so good…so good…”

“…do you need—“

“—shhhh…”

She shushes him gently, still meeting the unconscious rock of his hips.

“…want you to come…”

He sounds so desperate for it that she licks two fingers and starts to work her hand in between them.

“…don’t pull out…don’t…hah…”

Her breath catches when he moves down and sucks her nipple into his mouth, lifting so that she can get her fingers against her clit. The heat of his mouth and the deliberate pressure against her clit send her into an orgasm, gentler than her first, but warm and pulsing all the same.

She whimpers and pulls him up into a kiss, breathing into his mouth, brows furrowed when the shift presses him deeper inside of her again.

“…don’t move…don’t move…”

“…c’mere…”

“…stay in me for another minute, don’t move…you feel so good…don’t move…”

“…Livvie…”

As they both start to relax and come down, she slowly drags her heels over his ass, humming and sighing. She tips her hips up, and then down again, tightening her muscles to feel the thickness of him, running her hands over his back.

“…kiss me…”

A/N: I would love to know your thoughts! Thank you for reading!

[songbirdstrivestothrive]

I have a six hour flight on Monday, what are the odds there’s an update before then?! *silently begging 🥺 *

I’m semi-close to finishing a chapter! And I am fully introverting this weekend with no plans, so I would say the odds are 60/40 in favor of an update lol

[songbirdstrivestothrive]

Oooo yay, we love a successful work life! What do you do outside of your fabulous writing skills?! If you don’t mind :)

I work for a large university as support staff in a Dean’s office. I’m an assistant and communications specialist 😁

[songbirdstrivestothrive]

Any updates on some other me / the fall apart series? Have been seriously looking forward to the next part!

You and me both! Its been a really fun and exciting time for me at my “real job” lately, with lots of new projects. So I haven’t had much time to write but i’m always thinking about it!

[songbirdstrivestothrive]

Where do you get your inspiration now that Scandal has ended? Do you go back to rewatch the episodes or do you pull from elsewhere?

I do re-watch episodes sometimes, but I just love their love! I’ve sort of imprinted Scandal in my brain as one of my coping mechanisms for anxiety, not sure whether that’s healthy or not lol. But if my brain is feeling “busy”, which happens OFTEN, my Olitz universes are somewhere I can send my attention so I don’t start obsessing over other anxiety-inducing things. I think of my brain as a small whiny child that just needs something to play with sometimes lol. I also just enjoy writing them, and I do it often enough that they’re still fresh in my memory most of the time.  

[songbirdstrivestothrive]

Hi there! Just wondering if you’d ever consider another full/consecutive story like Madness again? I find myself going back to read that one all the time!

Never say never, but probably not.

[songbirdstrivestothrive]

BBA here. WHEN WILL IT BE MY TIME TO SHIIIIIINE?!

OMG I was thinking about you!!! Next part of the Fall Apart/Putting It Back Together series, BBA, NEXT PART. Next chapter I post will NOT be that part, it’s a bucket of fluff that I think ppl will enjoy anyway (unrelated). But the final installment of that series! It’s in there!

[songbirdstrivestothrive]

Ughhhh that last update was SO HOT!!!! Literally howwwww do you do that lol 🙃🙃🙃

lol thank you!!! I honestly couldn’t even tell you. I always think I have nothing new to add to their love scenes, and then somehow things I haven’t written before pop up.

[songbirdstrivestothrive]

**UPDATE**

[songbirdstrivestothrive]

**UPDATE**

[songbirdstrivestothrive]

**UPDATE**

[songbirdstrivestothrive]

Update coming anytime soon? 👀💞

I’m working on it, promise!

[songbirdstrivestothrive]

Um. Idk how to request this without sounding like an insane person but old if you’re ever feeling the need to write something really frisky, can we maybe have a squirting situation. OK BYE SORRY

BAHAHAHA. You know, i’m very curious about this, but I’d need to do some more research first. I mean, I feel like if this phenomenon were going to happen between any couple it would be Olitz, so...

[capricornluna-deactivated201810]

this blog hates donald trump

[pearlmarley]

Look how many people hate him. I’m pretty damn happy about that 😁😁😁😁😁😁

[aggressivetapdancing]

I’ve never reblogged something so fast

[songbirdstrivestothrive]

Hahahhahahahhahahahaha haha Abby and Huck at the end of the last update. I laughed for literally 10 minutes 😂😂😂😂😂 poor Huck!!!

Lol I’m so glad it made you laugh. I wanted to include that scene SO BADLY but I didn’t know if I’d be able to come up with a way to make it realistic. Then, BAM...it worked itself out haha.